Yours to Savor (15 page)

By the time the limo stopped in front of an enormous, towering hotel in a very prominent area of town, Sandra knew better than to be impressed. Yet, she couldn’t help but stare at the exorbitant luxury of the place.

She spotted a Porsche, a Ferrari, and a Maserati along the row of cars lining the street. All were terribly expensive. She knew that since she’d taken an interest in her dad’s car magazines when she was a little girl. Bellboys stood at the ready in front of the lobby, where gold-trimmed glass panel doors shone in the waning light. Sandra stepped out of the car, and instantly a bellhop was on her, inquiring about her tastes, her trip, her preferences, and a dozen other things.
She was overwhelmed by the questions. Before she had a chance to react, Clarisse stepped in and directed the attendant to get the bags from the trunk. Sandra let herself be led into the hotel, where an impeccably dressed receptionist greeted them. He handed Clarisse an envelope, which she then passed to Sandra.

“It’s nearly six,” Clarisse noted, pointing at the elevator in the far reaches of the lobby. “That means you have about ninety minutes before you need to be ready. Brandon said he wanted to see you at eight, right? Don’t be late.”

“What about—”
the clothes
, she was going to ask, but Clarisse seemed to have read her mind.

“I’ll have some attendants bring your bags up. Now, go on up to your room and enjoy yourself.” She leaned in, and for the first time, seemed actually
genuine
as she confided in a lower voice, “You’re too uptight for a girl caught in the whirlwind of an adventure. Don’t think I don’t know how overwhelming this can be if you’re not used to it. Just act like you
are
used to it, and you’ll be ninety percent of the way there.” She leaned back, resuming her prior authoritative air. “There’ll be a tub ready in your room. Soak in the water a bit, let yourself relax. By the time you come out, your clothes will all be waiting for you.” With that, she turned and directed her attention back to the bellman.

Might as well go up
, Sandra thought. She found herself curious about what her room would look like.

She got in the elevator, opened the envelope, found her room number and key. It was on the eleventh floor. She hit the button, and the elevator catapulted her up to the right level. She had no trouble picking out her room. It was the only one with a pair of French doors for an entrance.

Honestly, does Brandon do this for all his dates
?
Maybe I should try to show him some goodwill later tonight
. After all, he had sent the flowers. And the card had an apology for being MIA.
And
he’d sprung for the hotel, plus there was the kiss—

No! Don’t lose focus
, she told herself.
You’re not here to indulge, or splurge, or do anything Brandon expects you to do. You’re here to set him straight, and that’s
all.

Then she opened the doors.

Chapter Nine

The suite was epitome of indulgent luxury. Sandra could find no other way to describe it.

The double set of French doors opened onto a grand foyer covered with rich, dark red tiles. Chandeliers adorned with sparkling crystals hung from the high ceiling, and modern impressionist paintings decorated the walls.

Sandra closed the doors and started down the long, airy hallway to her left. The breezy scent of budding Convallaria filled the air. She extended one hand to trail her fingertips along a cool marble wall. The foyer felt like the entrance to a palace, and Sandra was half-dazed in disbelief at finding herself there.

Giddy excitement bubbled within her as she entered the living room. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the entire city, arcing around the enormous room in a concave shape to give a spectacular fisheye view of the city. A dark red, leather couch that matched the foyer tiles was positioned off to one side, each of its sections
nearly as big as her bed at home. In front of it, hanging from the ceiling, was an enormous flat screen television, quite possibly
bigger
than one of her apartment walls, and thinner than her little finger.

Sandra walked over to the windows and put her head against the glass to look down. Her suite was right above the hotel entrance. She could see the movement of cars and people below as they came and went. She noticed Charles’s limo rolling out into traffic, smiled, and turned around.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had so much space to herself. She’d
never
had this much space, in fact. In college, she’d shared a small dorm with two girls. The Dallas apartment she’d had with Henry hadn’t been very big because it was temporary. Obviously, her decrepit flat in Ocean Shores was no comparison to this place. She looked up at the high ceiling. She knew she couldn’t reach even if she climbed on the couch and jumped up.

She reminded herself that she was here to tell Brandon he couldn’t expect her to come running at his call… but if he gave her this much, well,
she was willing to take a little advantage!

Sandra flew to the couch and flung herself onto it, giggling as the cushions propelled her back in the air. The musky leather scent wrapped itself around her, enticing her senses. She was inexplicably reminded of furniture shopping with Henry and all the showrooms they had gone through.

At least this time I’m not pretending to be in love with anyone.

Sandra noticed the stereo system and bolted over. A vast collection of CDs stood beside it in a tower, which was kind of old fashioned, but cute. She trailed her finger over them, spotted a classic Madonna album, and immediately popped it into the player. Her sister Chloe used to love Madonna; Sandra did, too. Their taste in music had been the one thing they’d always shared. Since the fire, Sandra had taken every chance she could to surround herself with things that evoked positive memories of her sister.

Like a Virgin
blasted from hidden speakers all around her, so loud that Sandra jumped—and then laughed. She cranked the volume higher, and the entire suite filled with music. Whatever ill feelings she had harbored toward Brandon for being out of touch for six days melted away as she lost herself in the song, spinning round and round the amazing living room, arms spread wide, and never once fearing hitting the walls. There was so much
space
, so much
freedom
, that Sandra forgot everything except the rhythm and Madonna’s golden voice.

The song ended, and Sandra stopped, dizzy with exhilaration. Clarisse had mentioned a tub, but Sandra wanted to explore, first. The hallway had some twists in it that undoubtedly led elsewhere, but that wasn’t what interested her most. While she danced, she’d spotted something much more enticing: an opening near the hall that showed a beautiful stainless steel kitchen.

Sandra skipped over, trailed by Madonna’s
Angel
, and stepped inside. The kitchen looked like it had dropped down from heaven.

Sandra used to love cooking, but had no chance to do so in her apartment. Even in Dallas, Henry had always eaten out, and her free time had been spent on other things.
Besides, what kind of woman cooks for a man who ignores all her feelings for months?

But back in high school, Sandra had cooked all the time. Even in college, on the rare occasions when she had some down time, she’d whipped up dishes that won the eternal praise of her roommates. Cooking had always managed to cheer her up, somehow.

She spun over to the great, gleaming fridge, threw open the doors, and squealed with delight. Not only was it fully stocked, but it was also
huge
, so big she could step inside, close the door, and pretend she was in an igloo.

Well. Brandon certainly pulled out all the stops for this
. Yet… she remained a little wary. She hadn’t seen him yet. The drive here with Charles, the shopping trip with Clarisse, the amazing hotel suite… even if all those things were orchestrated by him, he was very noticeably
absent
the entire time. Maybe she would have enjoyed shopping more if he were there. As it was, all of this felt a bit like being caught in a spider web—except that the spider was nowhere to be seen.

She’d make up her mind about him when she saw him tonight, Sandra decided. Besides, Clarisse’s advice in the lobby was spot on. Sandra
had
been too uptight for someone caught up in an adventure. If Brandon wanted to send her shopping and spring for a hotel like this, with no expectations of his own, why
shouldn’t
she let herself enjoy it?

No expectations yet, anyway,
a sly voice reminded her.

Well. She’d deal with
that
when she saw him. It would depend on what version of Brandon she got. Would it be the carefree, laughing, slightly caustic one she remembered from their first interaction? Or the serious, intelligent, and deep one from the boat? Or the cold and distant Brandon who said farewell to her on the dock?

She hoped it wasn’t the last one. But, she didn’t think
cold
and
distant
Brandon would have done all this. She remembered what he had said the last time she saw him, the excuse he’d made about having a business meeting—but what kind of business could take place on a boat at
night
? Brandon had promised to see her again. He would make good on that promise in a few hours.

What was that other thing he said? That next time, he’d do it “right”?

Maybe
this
was his attempt at that. Sandra couldn’t be sure. She hoped it was. However, the presumptuous way he had invited her here—not to mention ignoring her calls and texts while Charles drove her from Ocean Shores—made her uncertain. What if he had five other girls in equally luxuriant hotel suites ready to come running at his call? He certainly had the money; this was probably just a drop in the bucket for him.

But, more importantly, why hadn’t he said anything about being from Chicago?

Suddenly, she remembered the tub Clarisse mentioned, and went off in search of the bathroom. Instead, she found the bedroom. An enormous bed, the largest she’d ever seen, sat in the middle of the room. Immaculate white satin sheets on top contrasted with the ebony wooden frame. Just like the rest of the suite, the bedroom was decorated in a minimalist design, though a hint of dark crimson trim along the window added some personality. She could imagine herself lying on that bed at night, peering out at the stars and moon in easy contemplation of life.

Sandra found her destination behind the next doorway. She was awestruck by two bathtubs.
Two! Why would there be two?
An elegant sable sink protruded from one wall, and the two bathtubs faced each other. Three of the walls were mirrored, and the last tiled in cool, white marble. Sandra walked in, realizing belatedly that one of the tubs was a Jacuzzi.

The other one was filled to the brim with steaming water, as Clarisse promised. The last time Sandra had stretched her legs in a bath was in Dallas. Since then, all she’d had access to was the tiny shower stall in her apartment.

She couldn’t even remember what it was like to lie in a tub full of hot water and feel the knots in her muscles melt in the heat. She slipped from her clothes, kicked them into the hall, and closed the door. Music from hidden speakers resonated through the spacious room, echoing off the walls and sending tiny ripples across the water in the tub. Sandra lowered herself into the hot, luxuriant water, closed her eyes, and drifted away on a cloud as warm as the sun.